Roommate Wanted
by ravenclawpride
Summary: Harry Potter has found the perfect apartment. The only thing he needs now is a roommate-which he finds in a former classmate. However, when Draco moves in, Harry discovers just how hard it is to live with a Malfoy. H/D, slight crack.
1. Roommate Wanted!

Harry took out the last book from the box and placed it on his new shelf (thank you, Ikea!). He stepped back into the living room and looked around proudly.

"All done!" he exclaimed. "Thanks for your help, guys!"

"No problem, mate!" Ron said from his place at the dining table next to Dean, lifting up his bottle of beer.

"Hah! You barely did anything!" Hermione said as she emerged from the kitchen, her tank top covered in dust.

"I....brought the alcohol!" Ron exclaimed as he gestured to the carton of beer on the floor. "You can keep the rest, Harry. House-warming present."

"Thanks, but I think you should take it home. I'm trying to avoid beer, there's too many calories," Harry said as he wandered over to the huge, floor to ceiling glass windows, framed by dark blue curtains, and gazed out to the view of London. Below him, the bustling crowds walked to and fro, past the windows of the shops and cafés across the road. Harry eyed the cute guy in the tight jeans strolling past the little boutique on the corner.

"God, I love this place!" he sang, twirling around on the smooth hardwood floors. He dropped down on the seat next to Ron and summoned a bottle of champagne and four glasses from the kitchen.

"I think my gorgeous new apartment deserves a toast!" Harry announced as he poured out the champagne.

"To Harry's apartment!" they toasted.

"So, when are you putting out the ad for a roommate?" Dean asked as he took a sip.

"Umm...dunno. As soon as I write it," Harry replied, refilling his glass.

"Last week, you said you already wrote it," Hermione said, eyes narrowing.

Harry cursed inwardly and damned Hermione's leak-proof memory.

"Yeah, well, I got distracted," Harry murmured.

"By what?"

"Uh, I went to buy more ink and the cute guy working there asked me out," Harry said. "I'll do it tonight. If I remember."

"Remind me again, why do you want a roommate? You could have this all to yourself!" Ron said, spreading out his arms.

"Urgh, it's just too quiet. I need noise, music, people, dancing.....alcohol," Harry said with a cheeky grin.

"I plan to make this party central!"

That night, Harry slammed his iPod into the speakers, thankful that his apartment could accommodate both magical and Muggle elements. He poured himself a glass of wine and sat down with a quill at the coffee table. He tapped the quill against the tabletop, thinking. Slowly and carefully, he wrote across the top of the parchment, 'ROOMMATE WANTED.'

"Hmm, what next?" he wondered aloud.

He thought for a while, then wrote: 'Preferably male wizard in early 20's, easy-going, fun-seeker, must be able to tolerate loud music, late nights, parties, cigarette smoke and alcohol. NO PETS.'

Under that, Harry wrote down his contact details. He read through the ad twice, and when satisfied, used his wand to multiply it into 400 copies.

He lit up a cigarette and inhaled it slowly while he dialled Hermione's number on his phone, inviting her to help him put up the ads around town. After she agreed, and offered to call Ron and Dean to help, Harry glanced at the clock. 10pm. Perfect. His favourite nightclub was just opening. Harry sprinted into his bedroom to get changed. Party time!

Knock, knock, knock! Harry groaned and rolled over in bed as some idiot repeatedly pounded on his front door. He carefully got out of bed, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar feeling of a hangover. Head pounding and eyes half-closed, Harry made his way slowly to the door and wrenched it open, revealing a disgruntled Hermione, and behind her, Ron.

"What the hell, Harry? It's 10.30! I've been knocking for half an hour!" Hermione yelled.

Harry rested his head against the doorframe.

"Sorry, guys, I was up late last night," he rasped.

"It's okay, mate, I just came," Ron replied sheepishly.

Dean came running up the stairs.

"Morning, guys! Geez, Harry, you look like shit! What did you do last night?" he exclaimed in a cheery voice.

"Haha, what else? Dancing and drinking til 2am at Lumos, of course," Hermione replied, naming Harry's favourite club.

Harry shuffled towards the kitchen and rummaged around in a cupboard looking for his ever-ready supply of Hangover-Gone Potions. He uncorked a small vial and gulped it down in one swallow. He sighed in relief as he felt the effects work immediately. He returned to the living room where his best friends were reading his ad, and collapsed on the couch.

"It was actually 3am, Mione," Harry corrected Hermione's last statement with a lazy grin.

"Wizard male, fun-seeker, able to tolerate parties and alcohol? Are you looking for a roommate or a boyfriend, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I wouldn't complain if we were perfectly compatible," Harry said.

The group spent the rest of the day putting up ads in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, the Ministry of Magic, St. Mungo's Hospital, and other magical hang-outs around town.

During the next two weeks, the application forms started coming in. One night, Harry invited his friends over to help choose his new roommate. They divided up the forms into four piles and began sifting through them. Ron poked at the small slip of pink paper covering each applicant's name.

"Why did you cover the names, Harry?" he asked.

"Oh, I paid my colleague to put Post-its over each name. Just in case it's someone I know, or the name is really retarded. Remember the time, that guy named Farconius asked me out, and I turned him down? I didn't want to be biased," Harry said, sniggering as he reminiscenced.

"Yes, Farconius didn't ever speak to me again after that fix-up," Dean said, looking at Harry.

They sorted through the forms, placing most of them in the 'Reject' pile.

"Oh my god, this guy is sixty years old!"

"Squib."

"Allergic to alcohol."

"Owns four dogs and five cats."

"Did no-one read the ad?!" Harry cried out, exasperated.

He picked up the last form in his pile, feeling little hope. He stared reading through it, and immediately sat up.

"Hey, listen to this! Male wizard, 25 years old – my age, works as head chef in posh Muggle restaurant, hobbies – cooking, partying, listening to music, preferably rock, and inventing cocktails. This guy is perfect!" Harry said excitedly.

Hermione took the form and studied it.

"Wow, he must be good. This restaurant is very highly rated. It's won loads of awards," she said.

"Well, it looks like we found my roommate!" Harry said. "What's his name? Please, please, please let it be normal!"

"Oooh, can I do it, Harry?" Hermione squealed.

"Go for it!"

Hermione pulled of the post-it slowly and dramatically. Her eyes widened as she read the name. She looked up at Harry.

"Well? What's his name?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Draco Malfoy."


	2. Meetings with the Past

"WHAT?! You've got to be shitting me!" Harry yelled, wide-eyed, at Hermione.

"No, Harry, it's really him," Hermione said, giggling, passing the form over.

"Draco Malfoy's gonna be your roommate!" Ron sang out, laughing.

Dean clutched his stomach as he laughed hysterically.

"You called him perfect, Harry! Hahaha, you think Malfoy is perfect!" he coughed out.

"I most certainly did not call him perfect!" Harry said.

He groaned as he felt his headache returning. He reached for his pack of cigarettes and tapped it against the tabletop, catching a cigarette as it fell out. He stuck it in his mouth and lit it with his wand, inhaling deeply. Dean reached for the pack and took a cigarette for himself. Harry thought hard, puffing away, then finally spoke up.

"Okay, what do you think I should do?" he asked.

"I don't know, it's up to you. Do you want Malfoy as a roommate?" Hermione asked.

"Well, it depends. If he's still a ferret-faced prat with anger management problems, then no. Maybe he's changed since the war," Harry said, shrugging.

"Well, Malfoy would have known he was applying to become your roommate. Your name was on the ad, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, it was. Hmm, I didn't realise that. So he knew he was me and he applied. Bit dodgy, to be honest. Argh, I don't know, he _is_ the best candidate so far, so maybe I'll just ask him up for an interview, and we'll see."

Draco Malfoy climbed out of the taxi and stared up at the building. It was huge, white, a posh place. It wasn't modern, but an old beautiful building with an air of romance. It had been recently refurbished; the interior of the building must be luxurious. Across the road was a strip of little boutiques and cafés, and people were sipping mugs of cappuccinos at the little tables under the umbrellas outside. Lush green trees lined both sides of the street. It would be a nice place to live, Draco mused.

He didn't even know what he was doing here. It seemed like fate when Harry Potter's ad for a roommate flew right into his face right after he broke up with his boyfriend of a year and was kicked out of their shared apartment. After thinking about it for three days, he sent off the application form in a fit of what-the-hell's. The apartment was in a rather exclusive and sought-after suburb, after all. He didn't even expect Potter to read his form, let alone send him an owl, saying he was the best candidate and would he like to come for an interview?

The truth is Draco didn't have anywhere else to go. His parents disowned him after he ditched the Dark side in the middle of the war. Most of the wizarding world thought he was dead. His only and best friend, Blaise Zabini, lived in France half of the time with his fiancée, so they barely saw each other. After the war, Draco decided to enter the Muggle World to look for a job, and was hired by a posh restaurant. Over the years, he picked up new skills and soon worked his way to the top position: head chef, which provided him with a large and steady income. Then he met Jack, a muggle-born. They dated for a year, Draco even moved in. But now...even that's gone down the toilet bowl.

Draco sighed and pulled out the cigarette he'd stuck behind his ear earlier. He lit it with his wand subtlety, knowing that even though many wizards and witches lived here, it was still a Muggle street. If someone asked, he could just say it was a novelty lighter.

Draco checked out his reflection in the glass door, making sure he looked presentable.

He had grown his hair longer, and now it fell past his ears and over his forehead. It was messy, in a sexy surfer-boy way. From the outside, it looked casual and effortless, but Draco had really spent hours in the bathroom with his unnecessarily huge supply of hair products. He had grown taller and more muscular since his Hogwarts days, and filled out the grey sweater he was now wearing nicely. He also had a scar through his left eyebrow, a result of that little spell his father had sent flying at him when he ran away from home. Below that, framed by light lashes, were his steely grey eyes which usually wore a look of disdain.

Draco threw his cigarette onto the ground and put it out with the toe of his shoe, took a deep breath, and finally pushed the door open.

A single knock was heard at the door. Harry glanced around quickly and nervously, making sure the house was neat enough, and then gathering his courage, he made his way to the door and opened it.

There was Draco Malfoy, although the man standing at the door certainly didn't look like Draco Malfoy. He looked like the kind of guy Harry would probably start stalking home if he saw him on the street.

"Malfoy?!" Harry spat out in a shocked tone.

"Hi, Potter. Long time no see," Draco replied in a pleasant tone, and extended his hand.

Harry reached out and shook it, then gestured Draco in and closed the door.

"Umm, please, sit," Harry said.

Draco sat down on the couch and looked around, admiring the apartment. It was huge, light and airy, complete with a high ceiling and huge glass windows. There was a small balcony, with window boxes where someone had planted some pretty red flowers. And either Potter was one hell of an interior decorator, or he had hired a professional, because the place looked like something out of a magazine.

"This is a great place you've got," Draco said.

"Thanks. Uh, do you want a beverage or something?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, do you have any vodka?" Draco said.

Harry seemed surprised at Draco's daring request, but was impressed.

"Sure. Nice choice," Harry said with a smile.

He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two glasses, handing one to Draco, and then sitting down.

"Well, so I guess I better start with telling you a bit about myself," Harry said. "Um, well, I'm twenty five years old; I work as a sports reporter on the Daily Prophet. Yeah, you must be wondering how I can afford this place – mostly inheritance money. Heh. I also do some spokesperson work for Quality Quidditch Supplies and Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. What else? In my spare time, which is usually every night, I go to my favourite nightclub, Lumos, or I have a party at home," Harry finished.

"Oh, Lumos is great. I've only been there once or twice though," Draco said.

"Yeah, I love it there. Um, okay, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?" Harry asked.

"Okay. I'm also twenty-five. I am the head chef at a Muggle restaurant. Every weekend, I try out different nightclubs around town, and in my spare time I like to invent cocktails in my kitchen while dancing to rock music," Draco said with a grin.

Harry laughed. "Um, cool, cool. Well, that sounds pretty good. I like cocktails."

"Me too," Draco laughed.

"Well, okay, I guess if you want to live here you better know what happens around here. I usually work from home, but I go in my office about 4 times a week. The Daily Prophet office is just a street away. Sometimes I have dinner with my friends and most nights I'm out at Lumos and I get back at 4am, latest. I have parties here maybe twice a week, and it's usually the same crowd that comes. They last until like 3am, so you've got to be able to take loud music and noise til early morning. Also, I smoke. A lot. So I hope you don't mind the smell of cigarettes. I try to keep it to the balcony, though." Harry paused.

"That's okay. I smoke too. Totally addicted," Draco said.

Harry couldn't believe he was having a somewhat normal conversation with Draco Malfoy.

Draco could hardly believe it either. But more importantly, he couldn't believe how much Harry had changed. He was taller and more muscular, but also lean and toned. His hair was cropped short and still as messy as ever, black strands sticking out everywhere. He had gotten contacts, as well and his fashion sense seemed to have improved. And was this partying, smoking, outgoing guy really the shy Harry he knew in school? Draco was impressed by how much they had in common.

There was a knock at the door.

"Ah, they're here." Harry turned back to Draco. "Just one little test to pass. Um, if you're going to be my roommate, you're going to have to get along with my best friends. They're over here like all the time, so..."

Harry got up and opened it. Ron walked in first, followed by Hermione and Dean.

Draco stood up and ran his eye over them. That Weasel still looked the same, but his awful red hair had darkened, and his skin was tanner. And was that really the Mudblood? Draco hardly recognised her. She was taller and slimmer, and that bird's nest she used to call hair was now tamed down into a smooth, layered cut with golden highlights. Along with Harry, she also seemed to have gained some sense of fashion. And she seemed to be holding hands with that guy...what was his name again? David....Tom...Ah! Dean Thomas! Draco remembered.

Harry made the rather unnecessary introductions, and they all sat down. After half an hour of chatting, mostly about what everyone was now doing, Hermione and Dean had to leave, and Ron soon left as well.

"Well, that went all right," Harry said to Draco.

"Yeah, it did," Draco replied, surprised that he managed to actually sit and talk to Weasley. "Umm, can I use the bathroom?"

"Sure."

Harry got up and showed him the way, then when Draco was safely inside, he quickly ran outside to the hallway, where his friends were waiting.

"Wow, how did you get out so fast?" Dean asked.

"Ah, he needed to use the bathroom," Harry said, "Well? So what did you guys think?"

"I think it went good. I did a background check on him last night, and he seems clean," Hermione said, "Did you know he actually left the Dark side during the war?"

"No, really?" Ron exclaimed.

"Wow. So...I think I'm gonna do it," Harry said.

"Cool! Malfoy's kinda okay now," Dean said.

After bidding his friends goodbye, Harry returned inside, where Draco just exited the bathroom.

"Hey. Well, I don't know what's the right phrase to use here, but I guess you're... hired?" Harry said.

"You mean... I passed the test and I'm your new roommate?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, that. We'll try it on a probation period, like, a couple of months, and we'll see how it goes," Harry said.

"Sounds good."

They smiled and shook hands.


	3. Party Time

In two days, Draco had moved in and settled down. Harry decided to have a house-warming party so his friends could meet his new roommate. Oh course, they will all think he was crazy, asking a Malfoy to live with him, but...he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

The day of the party, Harry awoke at precisely 12 noon, having been at Lumos til 4am the previous night. He groaned and rolled out of bed, then stumbled to the kitchen in search of a Hangover Potion. He looked around the quiet and empty house. It seemed Draco liked to sleep late on weekends.

Harry went into the living room and turned on the TV. After channel-surfing for an hour, Draco tumbled out of his bedroom, clad in only a pair of striped boxer shorts.

"Argh!!" Draco yelled out when the light from outside hit his eyes.

Harry covered up his laugh with a coughing fit, and then summoned a bottle of Hangover Potion from the kitchen and threw it to Draco, who caught it and downed the contents in one gulp.

"Ah...Thanks, Harry," he said, and threw himself down on the couch.

Harry didn't know whether to be more surprised that Draco had called him by his name, or by the fact that his new roommate had a delicious body...

"Out late last night?" Harry asked, forcing his eyes away from that perfect chest.

"Yeah. I tried out this new club in Knockturn Alley," Draco replied.

"Oh? How was it?"

"Eh, not so good. The bartender, who by the way I think was a vampire, charged me 10 galleons for what tasted like a glass full of tar. The music was sooo medieval, and I think I saw Rita Skeeter and Snape making out in the men's room."

"Ugh, I did not need that image."

"Ha, sorry. Hey, isn't the party tonight? Don't you have to cook, get ready or something? It's already 1.30," Draco commented.

"No way. My parties are totally last minute. I go to the liquor shop across the road at 8pm and buy drinks and about ten bags of chips, then I come back, put them on the table, put on my party playlist, turn my speakers up to full volume and put a un-breakable charm on all my fragile stuff," Harry laughed, "and people start turning up at around 9.30."

"Well, how about we do things a little differently tonight?" Draco asked.

"Like how?"

"Well, you take care of the music, and leave the rest to me."

At 9pm that night, Harry stood in the middle of his apartment and gazed around in awe. Draco had made good his promise, and it sure was different. The chairs had been Vanished, and the glass dining table was pushed up against one of the huge windows, which showed off an amazing view of London at night. Laid out on the table was an assortment of finger food on huge platters – about ten varieties of sushi, canapés, mini quiches, crab cakes, Vietnamese spring rolls and some fancy crackers accompanied by homemade dip. Draco had conjured up a mini bar, where everything needed to mix cocktails were set out, along with a hundred different glasses, lined up in neat rows. A large icebox stood near the kitchen, filled with cans and bottles of wine and beer. The lights had been dimmed, and on the balcony were a number of lit candles. Draco had also set out some ashtrays outside, Harry noted with a grin.

Draco emerged from his bedroom, where he had holed himself in for the past two hours.

"So, what do you think?" Draco asked, and waved his arm around.

"It's....great," Harry said, shaking his head. "You really didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"It was nothing. Oh, I've put the charm on your fragile stuff, too."

"Thanks. So, all we need now is the music," Harry said, and waved his wand towards his speaker system.

A loud rock song with a thudding bass pumped through the house, and Draco turned to Harry.

"You neighbours don't mind this going til 3am?"

"There's a silencing charm around the apartment," Harry said.

"Ahh, clever."

Harry glanced sideways at Draco, who looked better than ever tonight. He had changed into slim black jeans and a thin, slightly see-through white T-shirt, which was tight enough to show off his well-defined chest, but not tight enough to look like it had shrunk in the wash. His hair was mussed up as usual, in a sexy just-fell-out-of-bed way.

Harry himself was wearing his usual party clothes – his most flattering dark blue jeans and an old T-shirt, tonight it was a faded orange one with the Chudley Cannons logo, a Christmas present from Ron from about five years ago.

The front door flung open and Hermione and Dean made their way in. Harry and Draco walked over to greet their first guests.

"Hi Harry! Happy house-warming!" Hermione said and bounded over to give Harry a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy house-warming, mate," Dean said, giving Harry a hug and handing over a wrapped present.

Hermione and Dean both greeted Draco warmly.

Draco replied with a shocked, "Wow, Hermione, you look..."

"Look what? Are you checking out my girlfriend?" Dean demanded.

"No! I'm just complimenting her outfit. Last season Versace, spring/summer collection, am I right?" Draco asked.

"Um, yes. Wow, you're good," Hermione replied, looking confused. She glanced down at her outfit, which was a short, sequinned yellow dress. Her hair was done up in a high, messy bun and she had on her favourite, six-inch heels.

Draco was impressed by how good she looked. She seemed to have lightened up and changed a lot since Hogwarts, and also dropped the whole 'know-it-all, smart-ass' scene she had happening in school.

Hermione and Dean looked past their hosts and spotted the food.

"Holy shit! Check out the food!" Dean howled. He moved to the table and dropped two pieces of sushi in his mouth.

"God, Dean, save some for the rest," Harry scolded.

"Ohhhh, god, this is sooo good. Draco, did you make this?" Dean asked, his mouth full.

"Yeah, I did. Glad you like it," Draco answered, walking towards the table.

Hermione and Harry both let their eyes travel down to check out Draco's behind as he walked away, then turned to each other.

"Oh my god, Mione! You have a boyfriend!" Harry whispered.

"Um, what about you? That is your sworn enemy you were checking out!" Hermione hissed back.

"Well, not anymore! Now he's just my roommate!"

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed, and then Hermione stalked off towards the mini bar.

"Ohhh! Cocktails! Yum," Hermione said, "Do you mix them, Draco?"

"Yeah, would you like one?" Draco asked.

Harry and Dean chatted while Draco mixed Hermione a cocktail. After a minute she waltzed over, holding a glass filled with a pretty blue-purple liquid. She took a sip from it and sighed.

"Oh, this is so good!" Hermione said, "One of Draco's specialities. It's called Paris Sky. Isn't that gorgeous?"

"Oooh, gimme!" Dean yelled and grabbed the glass from Hermione, tasting it.

Harry looked over at Draco, who grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Everyone had arrived by 10pm. Harry's usual crowd consisted of colleagues and old schoolmates, including Ron, Luna, Ginny, Fred, George, Seamus and Neville. The party was a huge success, by far one of the best Harry had thrown. Draco had won over most of Harry's friends, mostly with his fantastic finger-food, which was replenished every half-hour, and his cocktails. The only person who didn't take to Draco at first was Ginny, but Draco soon won her over with a never-ending supply of one of his cocktails, aptly named Love Me.

By the time the sun was about to rise, Harry, who was too drunk to know better, had just finished dancing topless on his kitchen counter, and had collapsed on his bed with an unopened can of beer in his hand.


	4. Morning After

Harry awoke with a blinding headache and a can of beer in his hand. He glanced down and saw his rather naked chest. He groaned. Either someone had tried to take advantage of him last night or he had been dancing on the tables topless _again._ And what was he doing with beer? Ugh, fat in a can, Harry thought, and threw it in the bin.As usual, he got out of bed and felt his way to the kitchen in a haze. Whenever he got very, very drunk, he always went partially blind. Scattered around the house were signs of a very successful party.

Empty plates and glasses were strewn everywhere, the furniture had been moved around and some guests who were too drunk to return home were asleep at various spots around the apartment. Harry spotted Fred snoring under the dining table, Oliver Wood curled up in front of the TV and Luna and Ginny balled up on opposite ends of the couch. Harry stumbled into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Ron, who had managed to conjure up a sleeping bag before falling asleep on top of it on the kitchen floor. He made his way to the cabinet, wrenched open the door and reached out for a Hangover Potion, the same time a pale hand reached out for the same bottle. Harry and Draco had grabbed the last bottle of Hangover Potion at the exact same moment. Hand still on the small glass bottle, Harry whirled around to face Draco...and immediately regretted it when he felt his head pound against his brain.

"Ughhh," he moaned.

"Let go, Harry! Don't let me hex you!" Draco half-whispered, half-hissed. Apparently his hangover was just as bad as Harry's, if not worse.

"No way, Malfoy! I should get it, I bought it!"

"I cooked and mixed cocktails last night!"

"Um, you offered to do that!"

"I need it more than you do!"

"I go blind when I'm hungover, so give it to me!"

"Are you sure it's not because you don't have your glasses on?"

"Argh, you're such a pain in my ass!"

Suddenly the bottle was gone, and Draco and Harry both looked down to see Ron swallowing the potion.

"Ron, I'm gonna murder you..." Harry snarled and pulled Ron up by the neck of his shirt.

"And when he's done that, I'm going to bring you back to life and kill you again!" Draco added.

Fred and Oliver, who had just woken up, came staggering into the kitchen.

"Hangover...potion...dying..." Fred whispered as he held onto the counter for support.

Ron glanced at Harry, who shot him a look that clearly said 'I'm about to send an Avada Kedavra flying your way'.

"Um, I'll run out and buy some," Ron said and ran out of the kitchen.

An hour later, Harry, feeling much better and calmed after a Potion, was restocking the cabinet in the kitchen where he usually kept what he thought was a never-ending supply of Hangover Potions. Draco was out in the living room, casting one clean-up spell after another in every direction. Just as they were finishing up, Hermione dropped by for a visit.

"Come on, Harry, let's go try out that café across the street!" she suggested.

After inviting Draco to come along, which he declined, Harry and Hermione found themselves sitting outside the café, sipping mugs of cappuccinos.

"So, great party last night," Hermione began conversationally. "God, I would kill for another one of those spring rolls. Anyway, Dean and I were wondering if Draco was gay. I say he is, but Dean doesn't think so, so then I said—,"

"Hold up. Draco's gay?" Harry interrupted.

"Um, I'm asking you. Didn't you ask when you interviewed him?" Hermione asked.

"No. It's not something you just blurt out. I always assumed he was straight," Harry shrugged.

"Because last night, I saw him dancing rather, well... _sexily_, with Jake. And, well, I think we all know very well which side of the team Jake bats for!" Hermione said.

Jake worked with Harry at The Daily Prophet as the fashion editor, and he was as straight as a really, really crooked line.

"Maybe Draco was just really drunk, or something," Harry said.

"_And_ he recognises brands! God, I need new clothes. It hurts when people throw the whole 'last season' thing right in your face," Hermione muttered darkly.

"Mmm. Well, maybe he just likes brands."

"Well, why don't we ask Roland to help? And then, let's go shopping!" Hermione suggested.

Help came in the name of Roland Krance.

Roland was the editor of The Daily Prophet, in other words, Harry's boss, and also one of the few people Harry looked up to – kind of like a father-figure, or a gay role model. He was one of the first people Harry came out to, and being gay himself, Roland was extremely supportive. He also had one of the most finely tuned gay-dar, in Harry's opinion.

So, Harry invited Roland over to sniff out the gay potential in his new roommate. Hermione, having heard this, decided she couldn't miss out on the fun and dragged Ron and Dean along.

Harry had told Draco he was having friends over for dinner, and Draco offered to cook. Harry accepted the offer, and at five pm sharp, his friends arrived.

Harry opened the door and greeted his guests. They settled in the living room for some drinks, and Harry dragged Draco out of the kitchen to meet Roland.

"Draco, this is my boss, Roland Krance. Roland, my new roommate, Draco Malfoy," Harry introduced.

Roland shook hands with Draco, while subtly running an eye over him. Draco was dressed in slim, faded jeans and the same T-shirt he wore to the party. After some small talk, Draco excused himself to return to the cooking and Roland settled back onto the couch.

"Well? What do you think?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Hmm. It's still pretty early to tell, but so far, my compass needle is pointing to Q," Roland said, sticking his arm straight out, much like a compass needle.

"Q?" Dean and Harry asked together.

"Mmm-hmm. Queer. Tight shirt, can tell he works out, nicely fitted jeans, great hair, obviously spent about two hours working on it, soft, moisturised hands and I smelt the new Gucci fragrance!" Roland exclaimed.

"So because of all that, he's gay?" Ron asked.

"Well, I can't say for sure. You say he's a chef, no? Chefs should have not so touchable hands – coarse from rough work, burns, maybe – but his hands were well taken care of. Obviously uses expensive moisturiser, and I really can't see straight guys spending that much money on skin products," Roland surmised. "But we'll wait and see. I have a few little tests up my sleeve."

And so the first test came. Roland assigned Hermione and Ron to stay near the kitchen, making sure Draco didn't go near his room. Because if he did, he would find Harry, Dean and Roland in his bathroom going through his products.

"Shit...." Harry breathed as he, Dean and Roland stared up at Draco Malfoy's bathroom wall. Now they understood why there was that complicated locking charm on the door. Thankfully Roland managed to unlock it and now, they were faced with what seemed like a year's supply of beauty products for the whole of Britain. Staring down at them was a shelf lined with bottles, containers, sprays, pots and jars of shampoo, conditioner, soaps, gel, wax, hair mousse, moisturisers, lotions, after-shave, cologne and more . That shelf certainly wasn't in there when Harry moved in – Draco must have conjured it up.

"Well, I think this says it! He's soo gay!" Dean exclaimed.

"Or maybe just self-conscious about his image!" Harry added.

"God, Harry. For a gay man, your gay-dar is totally shit!" Dean answered.

"Boys, boys. Patience. I still have one more test..." Roland said.

The final test came just before dinner. The doorbell rang, and Harry got up to answer it, wondering who it was. Roland answered the question for him.

"Oh, that must be Jake," Roland said.

"Jake?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"Harry, didn't you remember Roland telling you he invited Jake along tonight?" Hermione asked, cottoning on quickly.

Harry nodded slowly. "Oh, yeah. Forgot, sorry," he said, playing along, assuming this was part of the final test.

Harry made his way to the door and pulled it open, letting Jake in. After greetings all around, Draco emerged from the kitchen and spotted Jake.

"Jake, hi! I didn't know you were coming," Draco exclaimed and reached out to shake Jake's hand.

"Yeah, Harry forgot to remind you," Hermione said with a nervous chuckle.

God, she's such a shit liar, Harry thought, watching his friend with an amused smile.

They got through dinner fairly quickly with easy conversation and a non-stop flow of wine. After eating, Harry and Draco cleared the dishes and started washing up in the kitchen. Just as Harry cast a clean-up spell on the dishes in the sink, Jake appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Harry, can you give us a minute?" he asked, nodding toward Draco with a suggestive smile.

"Ummm, okay...." Harry said, and exited into the living room, where the rest of his friends were.

"What is your plan, exactly?" Harry shot at Roland.

"Well, right now, Jake is in there asking Draco out. If he says yes, this coin will turn green, and obviously Draco is gay," Roland said, holding a sickle in his palm. "Hermione charmed it for me," he added, winking at Hermione.

"What if he's gay, but he says no?" Dean asked.

"Um, then I'll have to think of a new plan..." Roland said.

"Wait, wait. Let's backtrack a bit. Jake is asking Draco out?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the stab of jealously, or the strong urge to run into the kitchen and punch Jake.

"It's that okay, Harry?" Hermione asked, watching the strange look on Harry's face.

"Uh, yeah, fine! No problem!" Harry said breezily.

God, he's such a shit liar, Hermione thought, watching her friend with narrowed eyes.

"Guys, something's happening!" Ron exclaimed, eyes fixed on the sickle.

They all hurried to look at the coin on Roland's outstretched palm. It started to glow around the edges, and suddenly flashed a bright green.

Dean gasped. "He said yes! He's gay! Hah, told you so," he said to Harry.

"I dunno...it looks a little blue to me..." Harry said and shrugged nonchalantly.

They stopped talking as Jake waltzed out of the kitchen with a smug smile on his face. He glanced at Roland and gave him a tiny wink. Roland answered back with a small nod.

"Jake's just leaving, so I'll see him out," Draco said.

"Okay! Bye, Jake! Good seeing you! Bye-bye! Later, mate!" the rest of them answered back, talking at the same time.

As soon as the door closed behind Jake and Draco, Hermione, Ron and Dean flew towards the door, trying to peek through the peephole to get a glimpse of what Draco defined as 'see him out'.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, before getting up to pull his friends away from the door.

**Sorry for the late update and that this chapter is a little rushed. Next one will be better. Thanks for all the reviews!**


	5. Adventures in Bratsitting

Draco tossed the pan with an expert flick of his wrist, and then tipped out the vegetables onto a waiting plate.

"Order for table 13!" a waitress said as she clipped the order onto the metal strip above the stove.

"Coming up," Draco answered.

The maitre'd of the restaurant stuck his head into the kitchen door.

"Draco, there's a call waiting for you in your office," he said.

"Thanks, Mike. Pete, can you take care of this order for me? Thanks."

Draco left the kitchen, pushed open his office door and picked up the phone that was lying on the desk.

"Hello?"

"Draco, is that you?"

"Yes. Who's speaking?" Draco asked, trying to place the slightly familiar voice.

"It's Pansy! Pansy Parkinson? I got your office number from Blaise," Pansy said.

"Pansy! How have you been? God, it's been ages! I haven't seen you since Blaise's engagement party."

"I know! We've got to catch up. Listen, I need to ask you a favour," Pansy said.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Um, are you free tonight? My sitter bailed on me, and I need someone to take care of Caitlin. I tried calling Blaise, but he's in Paris, so he suggested calling you."

Fuck. I'm going to kill Blaise. Bastard. Draco thought.

"Draco? Are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry, Pans. Um...are you sure there's no one else?" Draco asked desperately.

"Yes. My parents are out of town, so are my in-laws. I'm sorry to do this, Drake, but you're my last resort." Draco detected the slight desperation in her voice.

He sighed.

"Fine. Can you bring her over tonight? You have my new address, right?"

They made the necessary arrangements. Draco put down the phone and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Urgh!" he let out a frustrated groan as he thought about what he'd just gotten himself into. Taking care of Pansy's four year old daughter for a whole night...What the hell was I thinking?! Ugh...I hate kids.

His mobile phone rang suddenly, and Draco reached for it, flipping open the slim silver machine.

"Hello?" Draco asked irritably.

"Hi, Draco, it's Jake."

"Oh, hi Jake! What's up?"

"Just wondering if I can change our date to tonight. Something came up for tomorrow."

"Yeah...okay," Draco answered, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

"Cool! Same place and time. See you!"

Draco hung up. Then thought about what he just did.

"SHIT!" he yelled, sitting up straight in his chair.

"Harry! Harry! HARRY!" Draco shouted as he hammered on Harry's bedroom door.

About two minutes later, Harry appeared, eyes half closed, and wearing only a rumpled pair of pyjama pants.

"What?" he muttered.

"I need some help," Draco said.

Harry rubbed his eyes and shuffled out into the living room, flopping down on the couch.

"What do you want?"

"Can you do me a huge favour and baby-sit a friend's kid tonight?" Draco asked quickly.

"Urgh...no. I hate kids. And they hate me," Harry replied.

"Please, Harry! Please, please, please?! I'll cook _and_ clean up for a _month_!" Draco practically begged.

"Whose kid is it? And why can't you baby-sit?" Harry asked.

"Pansy Parkinson's. And long story...but somehow my date with Jake got changed to tonight," Draco replied. "Come on, Harry!"

Draco made his best puppy dog face.

Harry looked at him irritably with a frown, then sighed.

"Fine! But you promised! A month, no less!"

Two hours later, Pansy had dropped off Caitlin, and Draco was still in his bathroom, probably doing his hair, Harry thought with a grin as he remembered the bathroom shelf. Another 20 minutes past, and Draco whirled out the door -barely throwing Caitlin a glance- in a cloud of Gucci cologne, and looking absolutely delicious for his date, Harry mused as he gazed out the window forlornly.

"Play dolls with me!" Caitlin whined.

God, I can't believe I'm doing this. Harry thought as he looked at Caitlin.

"Sorry, can't. I have a deadline to meet," Harry said as he pulled a roll of parchment towards him and continued writing out his article, which was due at midnight.

"I'm thirsty!" Caitlin yelled.

Harry sighed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of juice. He sat Caitlin down in front of the television and popped in a Muggle movie, after making sure it didn't contain any explicit language or scenes. Then, he sat down at the table and continued writing.

Ten minutes past.

"Whatcha doing?"

Harry jumped out of his chair and turned around sharply. Caitlin was watching him innocently with the glass of juice in her hand.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want another movie! This one's boring."

Harry, muttering colourfully under his breath, went to put in another movie, then returned to find Caitlin standing over his parchment, which was now a juice-covered mess, holding an empty glass.

"FU—FUDGE!" Harry screamed.

"Argh!" he yelled out, turning sharply on his heel and headed over to the fireplace, throwing in a handful of Floo Powder.

Hermione and Dean were watching TV comfortably –translation: making out on the couch - when Harry's head popped up in their fireplace.

"You two! Get over here NOW!" Harry snarled and disappeared.

Two seconds later, Hermione and Dean climbed out of the fireplace in Harry's apartment to find him staring at a pile of wet parchment on the dining table, and a little girl sitting on the couch.

"I'll explain later. But first, can you fix this?" Harry said, pointing at the mess.

Hermione performed a tricky little charm and managed to recover most of the article, although Harry would have to re-write it out. He explained the whole story to them, assuring that Draco will be in a lot of trouble when he gets home, and left Hermione to entertain Caitlin, while sitting back down with his story, muttering angrily.

Later, he found himself out on the balcony, lighting a cigarette as he sent his owl off with the story.

Hermione came up behind him.

"The brat's gone to sleep, finally!" she exclaimed.

Dean appeared on the balcony as well.

"God, Harry. Remember to put an un-breakable charm on your stuff next time you babysit. That imp nearly broke your Tiffany glass bowl-don't worry, its fine," Dean assured him as Harry let out a yelp.

"Oh, please, there won't be a next time," Harry said.

The next morning Harry sat at the dining table, cup of coffee in one hand, the Daily Prophet in the other. It was the first time in a long time that he wasn't out the previous night, drinking and partying. Last night's episode had him too stressed to even think about going to Lumos.

Draco came out from his bedroom and sat down at the table, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Harry looked up.

"You." he snarled. "Are in so much trouble."

Draco glanced up nervously.

"Oh my god, Harry! I'm so sorry. I should have told you she was a little bitch...just like her mother," Draco frowned darkly.

"Bitch doesn't even begin to describe her! She spilled juice all over my work, rejected two of my favourite movies, ripped Hermione's Dolce top and used my Tiffany bowl as a swimming pool for her fucking doll, almost breaking it!" Harry ranted.

"Ugh, I'm gonna kill Pansy. And Blaise. He's the one that put me up to this!" Draco exclaimed.

"Anyway, I'm so sorry. I'll do anything! Let me take you out to Lumos tonight...all drinks on me. Invite your friends! Anything!"

"Okay- you said it. Unlimited drinks," Harry warned, pointing at Draco.

"Absolutely."

Draco was beginning to regret his offer that night, as Harry threw back yet another tequila shot.

Damn, can that Potter drink, he thought.

Harry had brought along Hermione, Dean and Ron, and Draco offered to pay for all drinks, in return for what they had to go through the previous night.

Harry ordered yet another cocktail, before throwing himself out on the dance floor.

The thudding bass pumped through Harry's body as he swayed his body to the beat, moving his hands through his hair, roaming over his body, waving in the air. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting the music flow through and carry him up.

Draco watched him from the bar, finding it hard to take his eyes away. The way Harry danced...god, what a turn-on, Draco thought.

"Draco, Draco?" Hermione was waving her hand in his face.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Draco shook his head and turned.

"He can dance well, huh?" Hermione asked, nodding towards Harry on the dance floor.

"Oh...yeah," Draco nodded and blushed, embarrassed that he was caught watching.

Harry stumbled over to the bar, throwing his arms around Ron and giving him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, Ron! You're such a good friend..." he slurred.

"Whoa, mate, I think you're a little drunk," Ron laughed, and hit Harry with a sobering spell.

"I'm hungry," Harry pouted.

"Wow, that spell worked fast," Ron remarked and signalled to the bartender.

A few minutes later, Harry, Draco and Ron were seated at a small corner table, munching on freshly grilled hamburgers.

"I didn't know nightclubs served meals," Draco commented.

"Harry has special privileges," Ron said, giving Harry a wink.

"What, are you like dating the owner of something?" Draco joked.

"No, I am the owner," Harry replied casually, taking a huge bite out of his burger.


	6. The Breakup

Draco stared, wide-eyed, at Harry, who continued to be oblivious while munching on his burger.

"You _own_ Lumos?" Draco asked. "Is this a joke?"

Harry blinked. "Why would I joke about something like that?"

"I don't know! Why didn't you mention this before? All the times you talked about this place...You didn't give any clue that you _owned_ it!" Draco exclaimed.

"Hey, Draco, mate. Shush down a bit," Ron said, while glancing around at the people who were listening in interestedly.

"I said it was my favourite club. I didn't say anything about not owning it." Harry frowned.

"Well, you should have said something _about_ owning it! God, you're the owner of the most successful magical nightclub around! No wonder you can afford that apartment. Why do you even work at the Prophet?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry shrugged.

"It's fun. And do you mind not telling anyone I own this place? I try to stay a little anonymous. That way, I can come here and party in peace," Harry said.

"Yeah, of course. I'll keep it to myself."

Harry juggled the pile of parchment and the bundle of junk mail as he reached into his bag for the keys. Finally unlocking the door, he stepped inside to see Draco and Jake making out on the couch.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Harry stammered as they broke apart.

"Umm, I thought you were going to be out all day," Draco said, cheeks flushing pink.

"Yeah, I just came home to drop off some stuff...I'll be just a sec!" Harry exclaimed.

He sprinted into his room and dumped the parchment on his desk, before rushing out the front door again.

Jake looked at Draco.

"So...where were we?" he purred.

Harry stuck his head into the room as Draco leaned closer to Jake.

"Sorry, sorry! But Jake, Roland asked me to tell you that you're a day late on that story, and if you don't have it on his desk by midnight, you're going to be writing the pet obituaries for the rest of your life," Harry said.

He saw Draco frowning at him from behind Jake, and shrugged.

"Just passing along the message," Harry said innocently.

And Jake never needed to know there was no such message.

Harry exited his apartment building while thinking about Draco.

"It's just a little crush, it'll pass over in no time," he assured himself, muttering under his breath.

He decided to distract himself by visiting the café across the street. After purchasing two caramel lattés, he apparated to Dean and Hermione's apartment.

Hermione took a sip from her latté and glanced up at Harry.

"Oh, tell me about your love troubles later. I'm taking you shopping! Dean's birthday is next month, and I'm throwing him a rooftop party. We need new outfits!"

Hermione dragged a half-hearted Harry off the couch.

Two weeks later, Harry and Draco were eating dinner at the dining table. Harry chewed on a mouthful of steak while simultaneously reaching for his wine glass and reading the latest issue of the Quibbler.

Draco sniffed over his plate. Harry looked up and raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

The sniffing continued for another five minutes. Finally, Harry could take it no longer and spoke up.

"Is there something you want to say?"

"Jake broke up with me!" Draco wailed.

Harry's first reaction was to leap around the apartment in joy and open a bottle of champagne while screaming something along the lines of "I love you, Draco!" – but his senses kicked in.

"Ohhh, I'm so sorry. Break-ups are hard. Shall we go to Lumos and get you drunk?" Harry said.

Draco didn't seem to have heard him.

"He said we were having a good time together, but he wasn't looking for something serious!" Draco sobbed.

If he was a girl, he would have had mascara tracks running down his cheeks, Harry thought.

"There, there," Harry said awkwardly, patting Draco's arm clumsily. "You know, my last boyfriend told me the same thing when we broke up," Harry said, attempting to cheer Draco up.

Draco looked up.

"Your last _boyfriend_? Good lord, Potter, you own a nightclub, you're gay, what next? Anything else you want to tell me? Your grandmother, the queen, is dropping by for a visit next week?" Draco rambled on, momentarily forgetting the state he was in.

"No, that's it," Harry admitted sheepishly.

Draco glared at Harry for a few moments, then decided to resume his melodramatic weeping.

"Oh, come on, be a man!" Harry sighed, getting up to clear the plates. "Look, I'll invite my friends over and we can have a little 'Screw Jake!' party, how about that?"

Draco sniffed and nodded.

Harry programmed the wireless to play The Weird Sisters song 'He's a Flobberworm and we don't need him' – his official break-up anthem, while his friends prepared snacks in the kitchen.

Harry decided an action film would be perfect for such an occasion and searched for his 'Star Wars' DVD, while Hermione carried in a tray of popcorn and chocolate. Dean, Ron and Draco soon joined them, carrying in bottles of wine and butterbeer.

They watched in silence-apart from the munching and occasional burp from Ron- for a while.

In the middle of a particularly exciting scene, Draco burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked in alarm.

"Jake once told me-sniff- that he hated this movie!" Draco wailed.

Dean and Ron looked at each other and rolled their eyes together.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, while Hermione attempted to comfort Draco.

"Thanks for your support everyone, but I think I just need to go to bed," Draco sniffled, and headed into his room.

Draco kept up his moping for another week, even purchasing a black hooded sweatshirt to wear. He even took sick leave from work.

Harry decided he had had enough, and told Draco so one night.

They were watching television, while Draco sat curled up on an armchair in his hoodie and with a box of tissues on his lap, occasionally blowing his nose. And they weren't even watching anything remotely sad or romantic – just an old re-run of Bewitched.

After Draco had started crying during an ad for toilet paper, Harry finally exploded.

"Oh, enough with the freaking sniffling and the tissues! I've had enough of your childish behaviour! So put on your fucking big boy panties, grow up and deal with it! Because this is real life, and guess what, mate? You're going to have to like it! And take off that goddamn jumper! Its summer outside, in case you haven't realised because you've been hiding in your room all day with the blinds closed! God, I'm getting heatstroke just looking at you! And please go back to work. You're a day late on rent," Harry finished off.

Draco huffed and reluctantly pulled off his sweatshirt.

"Good. Now go get changed. We're going to Lumos," Harry said, reaching for the remote.

An hour later, Harry and Draco sat at the end of the counter at Lumos, with plates of perfectly cooked steak and glasses of Firewhiskey. Harry pulled out a black box from his pocket and slid it along the counter towards Draco.

"What's this?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Open it. You'll see," Harry replied.

He lifted the lid off the box and pulled out an expensive looking leather key ring, on which hung a single silver key.

"It's the key to my- well, our- apartment. Your two month probation period is over. You passed the test- just barely, considering your behaviour the last week. Anyway, you're officially my roommate," Harry said.

Draco smiled – his first real smile in a week.

Harry lifted up his glass. "Congratulations, roomie."


	7. Sharing Is Not So Caring

"Oh dear god, Madonna, what the hell were you thinking? All that money and no fashion sense..." Hermione said, peering at the magazine on her lap.

"Mmm," Harry murmured, as he intently read an article on his favourite Hollywood actor.

It was a sweltering hot summer day outside and Harry and Hermione were indulging in their favourite pastime with the air-conditioner on full-blast.

Draco came through the front door carrying a grocery bag, red in the face and panting slightly.

"Fuck, it is hot out there. And the bloody lift isn't working," he complained. He pulled his sweaty shirt away from his chest and grimaced.

Draco headed into his room, and returned a short time later.

"Harry, the toilet isn't working," he said.

"Oh. Why don't you call a plumber?" Harry said absentmindedly, picking up the magazine Hermione just abandoned.

"Oh, Draco! Just call Ron. He'll come over and fix it. He's good at that sort of maintenance...stuff," Hermione said, waving at Draco as he walked towards the phone.

Half an hour later, Ron emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel.

"It's gonna need a whole new part. I think you should call a professional," he told Draco.

"Why don't you tell my landlord?" Draco said, nodding towards Harry, who was asleep on the couch, snoring lightly.

"Harry!" Ron yelled.

"Hmm! What?" Harry asked, sitting up on the couch, the magazine lying on his naked chest sliding off onto the floor.

Draco left Harry and Ron discussing the toilet and went into the kitchen where he found Hermione mixing a batch of iced tea. Draco opened the fridge and pulled out a piece of chocolate, nibbling on it.

"So, you doing better after the whole...Jake thing?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Harry made me feel a lot better by yelling at me, and then giving me a key," Draco said.

"A key?"

"Yeah, because I passed my probation period."

"Oh! That's sweet," Hermione said, passing Draco a glass of iced tea. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Draco said, tasting it and then forcing himself to swallow it.

"Urgh! God!" Hermione sputtered, spitting out her mouthful in the sink. "Why the hell does this taste like shit?"

"Umm, maybe because you put baking soda in there?" Draco said, picking up the container from the counter.

"Oh, oops," Hermione giggled.

Draco wandered over to the fridge, peering at the photo stuck onto the door. It was one of Harry dancing topless on the kitchen counter, the night of his first party in the apartment. Luna had taken the picture, developed it and stuck it on the fridge. The little Harry in the picture whipped off his shirt and winked at Draco.

Hermione watched Draco studying the picture intently with a bemused smile. Both their thoughts were interrupted as Harry and Ron entered the kitchen.

"Bad news, Draco," Ron began, while Harry had an irritated look on his face.

"The plumber won't be able to come until next week, so you're going to have to share Harry's bathroom for a little while," Ron said.

"What?! But, but..." Draco stammered, turning away from the fridge.

"Look, I'm not happy about it either. I know how long you spend in there doing your hair," Harry said.

Draco pouted, while Ron picked up the jug of iced tea, pouring himself a glass.

"Sorry, mates, but it's just a week," Ron said, taking a gulp.

"Arghh! What the fuck?"

After Hermione wiped the spray of iced tea off her face, she left with Ron after reminding Draco and Harry about Dean's birthday party the next week.

"Friday at 7 on the rooftop, guys!" she said, grabbing a bottle of ice water from the fridge, preparing for the long, hot walk down the stairs.

During the next week, Harry was beginning to regret asking Draco to become his roommate. Draco hogged the bathroom every morning and spent an average of two hours inside, while Harry hopped around impatiently outside, trying not to scream for Draco to get the fuck out. Eventually, after nearly missing an important meeting with his editor, Harry was forced to wake up at five am, just so he could use the bathroom before Draco got in first. The week passed by excruciatingly slowly, and when Friday arrived, Harry nearly passed out in delight- the plumber had called and was coming the next morning.

Harry sat on the couch, sighing in frustration, and glanced at the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was already fifteen minutes to seven, and Draco was still in the bathroom.

Harry was considering calling Hermione to say they were going to be late when Draco breezed out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam and cologne, looking as though he had stepped right out of a fashion magazine.

"About bloody time!" Harry huffed, sprinting into the bathroom. He took the quickest shower of his life, cast a drying spell on his hair and jumped into a pair of jeans and a white cotton button-down shirt.

They Apparated to Hermione and Dean's apartment building (after Draco refused to Floo by gesturing to his hair and outfit with a "you've got to be kidding me" look on his face). Then Harry apparated back home to fetch Dean's present, which he'd forgotten the first time, and returned.

They took the lift to the top floor, and then climbed another flight of stairs reaching the door leading to the roof. Harry pushed it open and paused.

"Are you sure this party isn't just for Hermione and Dean?" Draco asked.

There was a small table and two chairs in the middle of the rooftop, laid with a white tablecloth and sparkling cutlery. Along with a chilled bottle of champagne and two crystal champagne flutes, there were dishes of divine looking food, which Harry recognised as takeaway from his favourite restaurant. Candles lined the perimeter of the rooftop and a canopy of white and gold fairy lights hung overhead, twinkling against the darkening sky.

Harry frowned, confused, and stepped nearer, spotting a roll of parchment lying on the table. He picked it up and unrolled it, while Draco read over his shoulder.

_Dear Harry and Draco,_

_It's totally obvious that you two just want to get together, so just make out already!_

_From your loving friends, _

_Hermione, Dean and Ron._

"Oh my god! I can't believe them! What do you think of all this!?" Harry asked, gesturing around unbelievingly.

"I think we should eat later," Draco said, before grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him in to meet their lips in a crashing kiss.


	8. Epilogue

**Here's the last chapter! I'm sorry for finishing it so quickly and abruptly. As much as I would have loved to add a few more chapters, I'm not finding much time for writing fan fiction right now. Thank you for all your reviews- they are greatly appreciated. Well, here it is, enjoy! **

One and a half years later-

Harry exited Honeydukes and crossed the street to Nox, the new café-bar that recently opened in Hogsmeade. He pushed open the door and searched through the crowded space for his friends.

"You're late," Dean remarked as Harry approached the corner table.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Harry!" Hermione squealed, greeting Harry with a kiss on the cheek.

"Happy V-Day, Mione," Harry replied. "And, Dean- since you complained, I guess you don't get any of Honeyduke's Caramel Hearts!" Harry sang as he pulled out the bright red tin from behind his back.

He left his friends fighting over the chocolate and headed for the bar, smiling at the blonde bartender behind the glass-topped counter.

"Love Me, please," Harry ordered, naming the house specialty cocktail.

"I already do," Draco answered.

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Harry cleaned down the last table with a wave of his wand and turned off the lights with another flick. Glancing at his watch, he headed for the kitchen, which was completely dark except for some lit candles placed around the counters. Harry let his eyes adjust, then saw Draco sitting atop the middle table, along with the last piece of chocolate cake and two glasses of wine.

"I didn't know this place served food after 1 am," Harry commented.

Draco laughed softly. "I have special privileges."

"Yeah? Are you dating the owner?" Harry asked, picking up one of the glasses.

"Something like that," Draco replied, lightly tapping his wine glass against Harry's.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Harry."

"Happy Valentine's Day, co-owner."

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Draco blew out the last candle while Harry waited at the door, holding it open.

"Ready?" Harry asked, holding out his hand. "Let's go home."

Draco smiled and took it.

Home.

That sounded just about right to him.


End file.
